"Hey! What's the big idea of short sheeting my bed, Weasley?!" Longbottom shouted.
"What are you talking about? You short sheeted my bed." Ron got out of his bed and looked at the shrinking sheets with an awed look. Not even the Twins' pranks had managed to keep the sheets from shrinking any further than half their size. This one was going down… down… well, shoot, it was gone. "My sheets are gone. How about you?"
"What do you mean, they're gone? Say, where'd they go? Dean, you having this problem?"
"By problem, do you mean am I experiencing my sheets shrinking, or growing? Because I now have too much sheeting."
"Me too," Seamus piped in from below a set of sheets that strapped him to his bed.
"Potter? You having any problems in there?"
"I'm sleeping. This is an automated message. Go away."
"Um, can someone get these sheets off me? I'm getting claustrophobic in here," Seamus whined.
...
The next morning, Monday, Harry woke up at his normal time and made his way outside for some exercise. He decided to use the available castle grounds for his jogging until the weather turned foul, which could be at any time knowing Scotland. He had increased his younger body's endurance to allow for a one-hour run these days. He found running allowed his body to do one thing while his mind concentrated on other things. For the past three weeks he'd been trying to get any better angle on the Voldemort/Dumbledore situation. As is, he'd run countless if/then scenarios through his mind.
He knew he couldn't just point a finger at Quirrell and tell Dumbledore that Voldemort had possessed him. Even if the old goat believed him, and there was a pretty good chance he'd at least investigate, he'd want to know how Harry knew this when the TBWL didn't. Not a good way to operate in the background.
He couldn't go to Voldy and tell him to pack his bags because Harry was onto his little game. Not only would Voldemort have no compulsion about killing him (or at least trying to), he'd also paint himself as a target to eliminate. Again, not a good way to operate in the background.
So far his best option had been to keep his mouth shut and take in everything, assist when needed, and then strike when Voldemort's back was turned, like a true Slytherin. Hmmm, maybe the Baron had been right. That meant keeping the timeline on track and waiting for when Dumbledore left for the Ministry next June which is when Voldemort went for the stone. Unless, of course, he could off Quirrell earlier and make it appear that Neville did it.
Any way he looked at it, he needed to get Neville involved in some context. Even if to only use him as an excuse. Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I didn't mean to kill Professor Quirrell, but Neville and I had a bet and you know how it is… Hmmm, his excuses needed better work.
If he could keep the timeline going in the same direction (for the most part), then the optimal time to take down the dark tosser would be at the end of the Tri-Wizard competition. That way he'd have called his inner-circle to him as well. Take them all out at the same time. And, of course, he'd need Neville involved somehow. The prophecy was intended for him and probably wouldn't like Harry to do all the dirty work. No, he'd get Neville involved. And Harry would only do most of the dirty work. After all, he had no intention of letting all those people die again.
Not now. Not ever.
For the rest of his run, Harry thought about the classes he was going to take over the next few years. Potions, DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Runes, Arithmancy, Healing, Divination, History, Magical Critters, Muggle Studies, Enchanting, and Finance (this one with a Goblin tutor more than likely). He was looking forward to getting a real education without some professor looking to wipe his slate every year. Ought to be fun.
After finishing his run, he went back to his dorm, saw the other were still asleep (lazy slobs) and hit the showers.
Refreshed, he made his way to the Great Hall and an early breakfast. While eating a protein-packed meal of cold ham, half a chicken breast, warm sausage, some toast, and plenty of fruit, he decided to write his family. Now that he had one, he was definitely feeling a little homesick.
Hi, mum, hi, dad.
Wow. It's been what, 24 hours since I started out on this trip to Hogwarts and I wanted to give you an update. First, don't believe whatever you hear from the Longbottoms. I wasn't even there. I must have been in Inverness or something at the time. Second, I'm afraid I have a little bad news. I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. Sorry about that. I know how much you wanted me to go into the Lion's den. The sorting hat said I really didn't belong to that one vs. others.
On the plus side, I'm not in Slytherin either. The hat didn't like that for me either. So you're probably thinking I'm in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Any guesses? The hat said I certainly was suited for Hufflepuff but it didn't place me there. And as for Ravenclaw (honestly, mum, you don't need to cry about me getting into the house of geniuses), the hat didn't like that one either. It didn't place me in any of the houses. So can you meet me at Platform 9 ¾ at 4pm today when the train gets in? I'll need to find another school. Sniff. It's so sad that I can't stay but…
… ahhh, who am I kidding? I'm just yanking your chain. I'm still at Hogwarts. I still didn't get sorted into any house, though. Mum, you sitting down? I think you'd better be. The reason I didn't get sorted into a house was that the hat made me an apprentice. It also said my apprenticeship was to cover all subjects here at Hogs so I need a few books sent my way. I'll also an account set up the Flourish's so I can order those books that I can't find in the library. Dad, do you know if we have any family grimours in our vault? If so, I'd like to take a look at them this Christmas holiday for a project I'm still putting together.
Harry had already given some thought to his some projects. One possibility was to institute some Department of Health regulations with the House Elves. Harry chewed slowly and then stopped, pulling the remains of the sausage out of his mouth. As he looked intently at the remains of the link, he saw the couple hairs and dirt still attached to it. Good cooks they may be, but when they dropped anything on the floor they didn't want to waste anything and simply picked it back up and put it on the serving platter to send to the Hall. Definitely needed to get some health regulations instituted. Harry put the sausage back on his plate and inspected the piece of ham he was going to eat a little more carefully.
Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I've met a couple other kids my age and have made friends. On the plus side, it's not Neville Longbottom or his patsy, Ron Weasley. It's a couple girls called Hermione Granger and Pam Turner, and a boy called Edward Gallandro.
Dad, has Leon managed to break the lock on my room? If not, the combination is: Charlie-Bravo-Alpha-Gamma-One-Three-Seven-Zero. Try to speak with a German accent when talking to the door to get it to more easily recognize the passcode. Don't let him know you opened it - let him think he did it all himself. I have a few more surprises in store for him.
Oh, I just remembered: the Headmaster said that my apprenticeship means I get to choose whichever house I want to stay in. I'm shopping around. Last night I stayed in the dorm with Longbottom and at least one other wanker. You'd have thought I was in the Slytherin dorm or something. Hah! I crack myself up. Speaking of the Headmaster, that Albus Dumbledore looks like he's completely barmy if you ask me. Are you sure he's the Chief Warlock? Is there any way to vote him out? Or at least get him a medical examination? How about asking the minister to fund a bill requiring all Chief Warlock's to have regular medical and mental evaluations?
Tell uncle Sirius and Aunt Amy I miss them. And Remus to not forget to change the nappies!
Harry
P.S., has Jasmine's Veela heritage started to work its way to the surface? She's been a lot friendlier than she used to be over the past few months.
....
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